


Interlude: Of Monsters and Boys

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Marks [10]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: F/M, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 06:03:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6942712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the comment_fic prompt: "Any, Any, In a world where everyone is born with the same distinctive physical feature, life is difficult for the one person who is not."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interlude: Of Monsters and Boys

John’s favorite thing in the world was picking up Jason from school. He didn’t usually get to do it. When it was his and Rodney’s fortnight with Jason, Rodney usually picked Jason up from school, because Rodney’s hours at the lab were more flexible. Picking up Jason basically meant John cutting out of work early. It also meant John got to have Jason for himself at the end of the school day when he was excited to see one of his parents and feeling chatty about his day. Aspire Academy was the private school where a lot of the Pentagon’s power brokers sent their kids, and tuition there rivaled some small colleges, but Jason was brilliant, and he needed a good education. After the initial struggle with the staff to figure out just how intelligent Jason was - he was better at hiding it than Rodney but nowhere as adept as John had been as a child - he was doing well, behaving better in class, and staying busy with work that challenged him.

John wouldn’t have wished his upbringing on any child. His childhood hadn’t been horrible; he’d had all his physical needs met and his mother had been a lot more loving and hands-on than a lot of his friends’ mothers were, said friends having been raised by a succession of nannies. But being dressed in a stiff uniform and treated like a tiny adult wasn’t actually helpful for children, and John had hated it. But he knew the game and could play by the rules, so Jason went to a fancy private school that looked like a gated English countryside manor and John had to stop by the security checkpoint at the gate to show the guards his ID. It was his small way of sticking it to convention, that he went everywhere he could on foot, riding public transport in his starched blue uniform. Rodney thought it odd, that John was so willing to walk everywhere when being a flyboy meant he had an obvious need for speed, but after being cooped up on Atlantis and under the mountain, John liked to see the sky.

So John ambled up to the guard gate, handed the young, fresh-faced guard his ID, and then dodged around the buses and stream of dark luxury sedans driven by chauffeurs to walk up the school steps. He had to pick his way carefully through the stream of children to Miss Rasmussen’s classroom where Jason would be waiting for him.

John squared his shoulders and straightened up, because Jason had inherited a ridiculous amount of respect for The Man from Nancy (and Grant), so when he stepped into the classroom he could at least pretend he was the impressive colonel the other parents thought he was.

Only Jason didn’t come running to meet him like he always did. When he saw John, he said, “Hi Daddy,” picked up his backpack, murmured a soft farewell to Miss Rasmussen, and shuffled over to the door. He slid his hand into John’s and started down the hall toward the main doors, fairly dragging John after him.

John settled into an appropriate pace beside him - it had taken him a while to figure out how to walk with someone so much shorter - and studied him.

“Are you all right, buddy? Are you getting sick?”

“I’m fine.”

John knew that ‘I’m fine’. That was Nancy’s ‘I’m fine.’ That was the ‘I’m fine’ he’d heard for weeks before he’d come home from a terrible rescue mission to a house empty of his wife and her belongings save her wedding ring and divorce papers.

“It’s okay if you’re not fine,” John said. “Sometimes Rodney and I don’t feel fine.”

Jason huffed a sigh. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“All right.” John would let it go, for now. “What did you learn in school today?”

“We practiced our writing, and telling time, and our reading.”

“What did you do to practice your writing?”

“We practiced our letters, and then Miss Rasmussen had us write letters to someone in our family. I wrote a letter to Uncle Dave. Will you help me send it when it’s done?”

“Sure thing, buddy.” John glanced down at Jason again. He recognized that expression on Jason’s face, had learned to master it at about the same age. Jason was really, really upset about something, and he was going to refuse to talk about it and pretend it didn’t exist, and he was going to be so charming and polite no one would notice.

John would notice. He’d mastered the art of deflective charm. But he didn’t press the issue, just asked more about Jason’s day, what he had for lunch, and they walked to the Metro station. The train was crowded with other after-school commuters, and John offered his seat to a woman with a baby, made sure to keep a firm hold on Jason’s hand in the crowds.

When they were finally home, Jason hung up his blazer and took his shoes off, then padded into his bedroom to change into play clothes. John changed out of his uniform and into jeans and a t-shirt and headed into the kitchen to get started on dinner. Jason would be in soon with his homework. In the meantime, John could think about how to talk to Jason about what was going on.

Jason sat at the kitchen table with his backpack and unzipped it, laid his writing exercise book and his worksheets on the table, then laid out his pencil box and homework tracking book beside them. He’d learned workspace fastidiousness from Rodney, and his solemn little pre-homework ritual was comforting to watch. 

John prepped all of the vegetables and beef for stew while Jason worked. He’d throw everything into a pot and leave it on the stove but not fire it up till Rodney called and gave him an ETA. Jason had inherited Rodney’s refusal to ask for help even when he was stuck, but John kept an ear out for the rare occasion Jason had a question. He could see Jason was getting frustrated by his writing homework - he had to practice his handwriting every day - and so John set down his knife, rinsed his hands, and sat down at the table with his son.

“You got a handle on it?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Do you need to take a break?”

“No.” Jason wouldn’t look at him, kept tracing his letters determinedly.

John reached out, stilled Jason’s hand. “Buddy, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. You’re upset. It’s okay to be upset.”

Jason bit his lip, and John realized he was trying not to cry. He reached out to pull Jason into his arms for a hug.

Jason lashed out, hitting him in the chest. “Don’t touch me!”

John froze, then slowly raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Okay. Personal boundary set. But you don’t get to yell at me like that. I’m your father. What’s wrong, Jason?”

“It’s all your fault!” Jason’s chest heaved, and he was blinking rapidly to try to keep the tears back.

John’s throat closed. “What’s my fault?”   


“It’s your fault I’m a f-freak.”

“You’re not a freak, Jason.”

Jason hiccuped a little sob. “I am.”

“Who told you that?”

“Everyone! Because I don’t have a Mark.”

John’s heart broke. “No, Jason. Not having a permanent Mark doesn’t make you a freak. When you grow up and fall in love, you’ll have a Mark.” He peeled off his wristband and turned his wrist for Jason to see. 

Jason shook his head. “No one’s ever gonna love me ‘cause I don’t have a Mark. I’m a m-monster.”’

“You’re not a monster,” John said, keeping his tone as calm as possible, even though he wanted to hit something. He was pretty sure none of the staff would have said anything about being Unmarked to Jason, but the other students might have. John and Rodney’s case had been a big deal in the news, and everyone was waiting for the Supreme Court to make its decision.

Jason burst into tears.

John hauled Jason into his arms and held him tightly, rocking him.

“No one knew I was Unmarked,” Jason said. “Mommy helped me keep it a secret. And - and then you came back and now everyone knows -”

“You don’t have to keep it a secret,” John whispered, stroking his hair. “You’re a real person, just like everyone else.”

“I just wanna be normal.” Jason buried his face in John’s neck and sobbed.

John wanted to cry, but he couldn’t, because that would upset Jason even more. Instead, he kept holding his son and whispering soft reassurances. When Jason’s tears finally stopped, he was asleep, so John carried him to his bedroom and set him down on the bed, covered him with a blanket, and returned to the kitchen.

He counted to ten, then picked up his phone and called the school and left a message for the principal. Even if the Unmarked couldn’t legally declare a Match yet, they were people, the same as everyone else, entitled to legal protection under the law, and no one should be telling Jason he was a freak and a monster.

Then John bit the bullet and called Nancy.

“John?” she sounded wary. They left inter-household communication to Grant and Rodney for a reason.

“The other kids at school have been telling Jason he’s a freak and a monster because he’s Unmarked,” John said.

“Dammit.”

“He screamed at me and then burst into tears and finally cried himself to sleep, so he’s taking a nap right now.” John swallowed. “I called the school and left a message for the principal.”

“I warned you that pursuing your case might hurt your son.”

“It wouldn’t have had to hurt him if you hadn’t taught him to hide what he is.”

“You hid what you are.”

“Because my father murdered my mother over it!”

“You lied to me.”

“Not about the fact that I loved you.”

Nancy sighed. Finally, she said, “Let me know what the principal says. I want to be there when you meet with him.”

“I will.”

“I’ll talk to Grant, too. Thanks for telling me, John.”

“Good evening, Nancy.” John hung up. He was wrung out. He didn’t know what to do, how he could possibly protect his son from this type of hatred in the world. This wasn’t something John could hunt and kill. 

He sat down at the table, stared at Jason’s careful little-boy handwriting, and cried.


End file.
